


Can't Stay Mad At Me

by 1JettaPug



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pouting, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyclonus took all the covers again. Tailgate is not amused in any sense of the word. Cyclonus then proceeds to make it up to his smaller lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Stay Mad At Me

"Cyclonus…?”

There’s a soft nudge to his side, but he simply ignores it and tries to go back to sleep.

“Cyclonus…?”

He grumbles to himself, now only half-awake, rolls over and away from the sound. Everything is warm and soft and there is still the fading shift of some sort of movement that he can’t see with his optics offlined. If only everything could just remain silent he could just go back to slee-

"Cyclonus…?”

"T… Tailgate," He moans sleepily. "I’m sleeping. Go back to sleep.”

Something pokes his right shoulder and now he's awake, but getting shaken awake is really irritating, so he keeps his optics stubbornly offlined. "Go back to sleep, Tailgate.”

There is a sigh, a soft impact against his lower back, and Cyclonus is only nudged a bit to the side. He sits up halfway, the blanket shifting down his plating as he did. “You kicked me?”

“Y- Yes…!” Tailgate is sprawled across the bed pouting at him. "You took all the covers… again… and wouldn't give them up.”

"So you kicked me?” Cyclonus sighs. "Tailgate. Your pedes are meant for getting you places. You shouldn't use them for petty domestic squabbles.” He told him.

"It's not petty.” Tailgate declares, undermining his point with the way his mouth curves into an even bigger pouty face. "I have been suffering because of your selfishness.”

"If you mean you were worried about catching a cold, then stop being a sparkling about it.” Cyclonus sighs. “Besides, you could have just woke me up instead. I would have shared with you”.

He gets up, stretching out his plating. He takes some time and purposely makes some pained facial expressions, but Tailgate's gaze doesn't soften whatsoever. Clearly this is going to require a bit more effort.

Cyclonus doesn’t say a word as he climbs back onto the berth. Tailgate's arms are still crossed over his chestplates.

"Come now, Tailgate," He says softly. “You can’t stay mad at me.”

This doesn’t help the situation any. "Give me a reason not to be mad at you right now then.”

Something of a smirk crosses his face as Cyclonus leans in towards the smaller mech. Tailgate turns his helm to pull his unmasked mouth away, so Cyclonus ends up landing a kiss on his shoulder instead.

"You’re not helping yourself here”. He whispers. Another kiss, higher this time, between the neckcables and the helm. "Come on…”

"I know what you're doing," Tailgate huffs faintly. He still doesn't sound happy.

"Yeah, but you know you can’t stay mad at me.” Cyclonus repeats. If their chests weren't nearly touching, then Cyclonus would miss Tailgate's shudder at the contact, and then Tailgate wouldn't feel him smirk against his neckcables.

Cyclonus pushes and tips his smaller lover backward, still half-rolled onto his side in an attempt to push Cyclonus away and arms still determinedly crossed in front of him. Though his grip loosens when his taller lover traces a path down his arm with one servo and his breath stutters when Cyclonus slots their hips together. 

At this point, Cyclonus knows he's winning because Tailgate hasn't said anything in protest to his actions. Another kiss around the neck, digits along the underside the knee’s plating, trailing up the lovely thigh, breath warm against his shoulder. Then Tailgate exhales and his servos come loose, reach up to hook around Cyclonus’ neckcables and pull plating to plating.

Cyclonus gently moves his servo along the side of his small lover’s helm. "Tailgate…?”

"What is it?” The voice is still a bit sharp, but it's going soft around the edges. Cyclonus pulls his faceplates back from shoulder so he can see Tailgate tip his helm to look at him.

"Now tell me if you’re still cold.”

Tailgate’s optics focus, and he was opening his mouth to respond when Cyclonus slides his servo around from the outside of his hip and presses his palm against his interface panel. Tailgate’s gaze jerks sideways, his servos clutch hard at Cyclonus’ shoulders, and the sounds he makes are a moan and Cyclonus’ name, both all the answers the taller mech needed all at once.


End file.
